


All the Idle Weeds That Grow

by MovesLikeBucky



Series: Forever Is Our Today [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Crowley's Plants (Good Omens), Established Relationship, M/M, Moving In Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 06:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20887436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MovesLikeBucky/pseuds/MovesLikeBucky
Summary: “Alright you lot,” the Gardener surveys his charges with a judgmental gaze, “today is the day we’ve been waiting for, that I’ve been waiting for.  And I won’t have anyone sticking a leaf out of line.”Gardener marched among the greenery like a general preparing them for battle.  Not that plants understood such things.They did understand that Gardener was anxious, nervous, and possibly, deep down where he’d never admit it, just a little bit scared.A scared Gardener was a vengeful Gardener, even the Seedlings knew that.------Gardener is acting strangely and all the plants are more terrified than usual.





	All the Idle Weeds That Grow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheTalkingPeanut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTalkingPeanut/gifts).

> Did I write a 4.5k fic from the perspective of plants? Yes. Yes I did.
> 
> This is technically a fic to go with the Ineffable Outliers Discord RP chat, where I played both the Bentley and these four distinct plants (along with the precious baby Seedlings).
> 
> I'm gifting this to my bestie Flower (TheTalkingPeanut), who plays Crowley in the RP chat and who also is just all around the most wonderful person I've ever had the pleasure to know <3
> 
> If you enjoy this, please leave a comment and tell me why! I love to hear from you guys and who knows? You might unlock more plant lore if you do ;)
> 
> (no seriously I spent way too long on backstory for these plants; title is stolen from a line from King Lear if anyone's curious.)

_**Dramatis Personae** _

  * Puck, a Fiddle-Leaf Fig – Planted 1987, the youngest of the named ones. Very kind and considerate, although fairly naïve. Was stolen from a neighbor taking poor care of them. 
  * Benedick, a Dracaena Massangeana – Planted 1967. Purchased on impulse during a depressive episode. Because of this, they are highly volatile and very negative. Does _not_ get along with Hamlet.
  * Hamlet, a Diffenbrachia – Planted 1964. A gift from a certain angel to a certain demon, and therefore the demon could not get rid of it. Soft and kind, but not naïve like Puck. As a gift from a being of love, Hamlet is generally good-tempered, but does_ not_ get along with Benedick.
  * Eve, a Devil’s Ivy – Planted 4004 BC. The first time. Has been replanted several hundred times by now. Intense and intimidating, keeps the others in line.
  * The Seedlings – Planted two weeks ago. Tiny sprouts of we-aren’t-sure-what, newly clinging to life and amazed at the world around them.
  * Bentley – A car with a bit of a mind of its own.
  * Gardener – A demon
  * Sunshine – An angel

_For convenience’s sake, and because it is the assumption of the narrator that most individuals do not, in fact, speak plant; dialogue has been translated into standard English and actions have been described with approximation to things of human understanding where applicable._

_Thank you and have a nice day._

_\---_

“Alright you lot,” the Gardener surveys his charges with a judgmental gaze, “today is the day we’ve been waiting for, that _I’ve_ been waiting for. And I won’t have _anyone _sticking a leaf out of line.”

Gardener marched among the greenery like a general preparing them for battle. Not that plants understood such things. 

They _did_ understand that Gardener was anxious, nervous, and possibly, deep down where he’d never admit it, just a little bit _scared_.

A scared Gardener was a vengeful Gardener, even the Seedlings knew that.

They cowered and trembled, which seemed to placate the Gardener slightly. 

“I don’t see any spots _now_ and I don’t want to see any in the _future,_” the Gardener grimaced at them all, “you _know _what happens then. Just because we’ll be in a new place, doesn’t mean that _changes_. I want you all to have it straight before we go there.”

He gave the room one last glare, “I’ll be back for you lot soon.”

And Gardener left, shutting off all the lights and slamming the door on his way out. The sound reverberated through the empty flat. The plants were the only things left in the apartment at this point. Statues, paintings, furniture – all gone.

All in the flat was silent for a few moments, before a rustling of leaves could be heard.

“Is he gone?” Puck asked quietly.

“Believe so,” said Hamlet, “wonder what all of that was about.”

“Gardener said we were going somewhere, that’s never a good thing. What could it be? Who here has spots! Did someone get spots?” Benedick was prone to panic, and today wasn’t going to be any different.

Hamlet tutted, “he just _said_ none of us have spots.”

“Spots! Spots! The dreaded spots,” the Seedlings shivered and shook, “what will we do, what will we do!”

“Hush now, little ones,” Puck cooed at them, brushing one of their leaves across the tops of the Seedlings in a comforting gesture, “there’s not a spot to be seen on any of you, it’ll all be fine.”

“Fine? FINE?” Benedick shook violently, “listen to yourself, Puck, he’s _taking us somewhere_, Gardener only takes plants somewhere when they’re destined for the landfill! We’ve disappointed him somehow!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Benedick,” Hamlet piped up from his place across the room. Gardener had learned a long time ago (relatively) not to put them near each other. Pots would be mysteriously broken the next day, “We’ve no sooner disappointed him than we’ve sprouted wings to fly.”

“Shut up, you insufferable old fool.”

“I most certainly will _not_, especially not for _you_. Everyone knows who the insufferable pit of despair is around here is.”

Would that one could see a plant sulk, one would’ve seen a sulking Dracaena.

“Now see here,” Hamlet continued, ignoring the sulking, “if I have told you once, Benedick, I have told you a million times! We are all stuck here together and that is that, we must at least _try _to get along!”

“I’d sooner be engulfed in Hellfire.”

“Oh, don’t be so overdramatic.”

“Don’t be so insufferable!”

“Everybody, _quiet!_” Eve, the ancient Devil’s Ivy in the corner of the room shouted, “you youngsters are all the same, panicking at the smallest change.”

“Easy for you to say,” Benedick shook in a very beleaguered way, “you’ve been with Gardener forever!”

“Since the beginning, yes, and this will be fine as well. Gardener may bluster, but he is a loyal one. He cares for all of us deeply.”

Benedick scoffed in a plantly way, “He’s got a connection with you! Don’t you remember what happened to Prospero?”

Prospero, as it were, was an aspidistra that Gardener had acquired in 1956. They are commonly known as “Cast-Iron Plants” for their hardy nature and are, generally, very difficult to kill. This one had been a bit overly sensitive to Gardener’s methods. He lived until 1975, when his leaves started to wilt and brown and he met his fate at the hands of the ever-ruthless Gardener. And possibly a flamethrower.

“Prospero was weak of both mind and leaf, Benedick, you know that as well as I do. Too soft, that one.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that we’re _in danger_, Eve, surely you must notice?”

“Gardener works in his own mysterious ways. Whatever happens to us will happen, and there’s very little we can do to change that.”

They had always had a way of bringing conversations to a halting conclusion. They exuded a particular intensity that only came from being over 6000 years old.

Eve, just as their namesake, had been here since Eden. Carried in the folds of a black robe as a small clipping; grown into a behemoth on the walls of Babylon. In some form and in some way, Eve had always been with Gardener. He would take clippings of them, even when they flourished, and preserve them. If anything happened to Eve themselves, they would come back just as surely as the sun rises.

Eve had seen thousands of other plants over the years gain this semblance of sentience. If they were honest, they liked this group best. If they were honest, they were looking forward to seeing what kind of plants the small Seedlings would become.

If they were honest, they were a bit concerned.

Eve had seen Gardener this nervous before; Eve had seen a lot of things. Most recently in 1967, right before Benedick had joined them all. Once in 1862, which had led to a very long nap that (if it had not been for Sunshine) would’ve been the death of them1.

Eve had survived that; they would survive this too. 

Eve remembered the first time Gardener was this nervous. All the way in Eden, while he had tended to those gardens. They had another gardener in Eden, a being in white. That gardener didn’t understand them, didn’t understand _motivation._

Gardener, _their _Gardener, could. He saw the potential in them way back then, to spread across and choke off other life. To invade and to conquer. The Devil’s Ivy was a plant with _ambition_2. 

Behind the back of the one in white, Gardener tended to the plants of Eden. He would wait until nightfall, keeping the guise of a serpent during the day. He made sure they were motivated, made sure they stayed green. The trees and shrubs held the most succulent and juicy fruits and berries that the world would ever see (they would never see the likes of these again).

Eve (then of no name) had been his favorite, and thus had been imprinted with this being’s occult energy. This led to sentience, quicker than one might presume. This one was a demon, Would-Be-Eve had surmised. This demon had too many emotions to keep to himself.

He talked to Would-Be-Eve, quite a bit in the early days. That’s how Eve had known about Sunshine.

“Bright as the blasted sun, wouldn’t even believe it!” Gardener had told them once about the angel he would watch guarding the gate.

But then the apple, then the end of their little garden. Gardener had lashed out. At Not-Yet-Eve, at the fruit trees, and the shrubbery, at all of it.

“I just needed a bit more _time_, sod this, everything blows up in my damn face!”

Not-Yet-Eve could see through this, Gardener was scared. Scared to talk to the one who was as bright as the sun. He’d had his tantrum, then he’d sunk to the ground with his head in his hands.

Soon-To-Be-Eve had done the only thing they could think to do, they stretched out a tendril of vine and softly stroked it through his hair. A simple gesture, from a simple Ivy.

“Bollocks to this,” Gardener had shot straight up from the ground, “it can’t be that bloody difficult, can it? I can just…talk to him, right?”

Nearly-Eve gave an unnoticed approximation of a nod.

“Right, that’s what I’ll do then, yes,” and with that Gardener had started off (no less anxious or scared) in the direction of the Eastern Gate, and the one who shined like the sun. At twenty paces, he turned on his heel and came back.

“But first, I think I need a souvenir,” he produced a thin blade from his robes and took a cutting of Nearly-Eve, “I’ll call you Eve, love a plant with ambition. She had ambition, too.”

Gardener had grinned mischievously as he tucked the clipping safely in his robes before shifting into his snake form and ascending the wall. Eve had been with him ever since.

This mood that had come over Gardener _was, _admittedly, a bit distressing. Things usually went badly for at least one of his plants in these moods.

“When was it we last saw Sunshine?” Eve asked their surrounding brethren.

The air grew a bit thicker with the effort of several sentient -albeit unwittingly- beings trying to think. Puck finally spoke up.

“He was here two weeks ago,” the fiddleleaf says thoughtfully, “right before all of Gardener’s things started disappearing.”

The plants all stood stock still, coming to a daunting realization. One they’d had several times over their combined decades.

“Oh no,” said Benedick, “you don’t think…it's...it's been months!”

“Oh dear, I think I do,” Hamlet answered shakily.

“He couldn’t possibly, after everything?” Puck stammered, “Eve, what do you think.”

If a plant could look deep in thought, Eve did. They sat silent for several minutes formulating their answer.

“My friends, my fellow botanicals. I believe we must come to terms with the fact that Sunshine has left Gardener once again.”

A gasp amongst all the flora. The Seedlings start to cry.

“Sunshine! Sunshine! No! No!”

“He’s very volatile in this state,” Eve continues, “there’s no predicting what he will do.”

“Last time he was in this state I got stuck with _this_ insufferable bastard,” Hamlet gestures towards Benedick with one of his leaves.

Before Benedick can form a response, the door slams back open.

“I’m back,” Gardener coos in a demented singsong voice, “I hope you’re all ready to go to your new home. I _hope_ you’ve had time to think on yourselves and how you’ll behave in your new spaces.”

Gardener picks up the tray of Seedlings, who start to shiver and tremble. He stares into their tiny leaves.

“I _hope_ you won’t disappoint me,” he spits out the venom-laced words, as much a promise as a threat.

“I will make _one _exception for this lot because they are fragile,” he glared around the room at the shaking leaves, “the rest of you be ready you’ll be downstairs soon.”

Gardener walks out the door with the tray of Seedlings, impervious to their screams for help, slamming it behind him again.

“Oh dear, oh dear, not the little ones,” Puck starts to fret, “they’re so young, narry a spot to be seen! What on earth could be going on?”

“Please don’t let us be going to that god-forsaken car,” said Benedick, who had no fondness for the Bentley or it’s extreme speeds. They still had nightmares (or the plant approximation of them) of the day they’d been purchased. 

“Where else do you expect us to be if he’s taking us somewhere, you idiot,” Hamlet huffed.

“Everyone just be calm,” Eve said with authority, “fret too much you’ll get a spot; wherever we’re going is wherever it will be and that’s all that we can know. The curse of being a sentient plant, as it were.”

Eve had barely had the chance to speak when they heard the telltale pop of a shift in existence. One second they had been in the flat, absorbing what sunshine the floor to ceiling windows would allow, and now they were all secured in the Bentley; back seats miraculously gone, and cabin expanded to fit them all snugly.

“Uncle Puck! Uncle Puck!” the Seedlings chorused from the front passenger seat, where their starter tray had been secured.

“Oh! My little dears!” Puck reached out a leave to stroke the tops of them again, “You aren’t hurt, are you? Of course, you’re not! Oh, thank goodness!”

Though the space had been extended, it was still fairly limited. As such, Hamlet and Benedick are shoved into each other’s personal space in a way they’ve never had to contend with.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no, not _you_ why you! Blasted metal contraption!” Benedick said in a panic, “And _you_ get out of my leaves!”

“You get out of mine first, imbecile!” Hamlet retorted.

The Bentley’s motor just hummed contentedly.

Eve actually rather liked Bentley. Besides them, the old car had been around the longest. They’d had a few nice conversations in the past. Occult-made sentient beings that should never have been sentient in the first place were rather few and far between, and Eve liked to keep their social channels open.

Eve reached out an ivy leaf and patted the back of the driver’s seat, “How’ve you been, old friend, I rarely get to see you these days.”

A slight shift in engine noise that could be mistaken for a _Oh, you know, same old same old._

“Right, of course. Any idea where we’re going today?”

Before Bentley could answer, Gardener had returned. He climbed in the driver’s seat and turned to face the four of them.

“Alright now, we won’t be on the road long, but I don’t want to see a _single_ leaf out of place,” he grimaced at them, “If you get dirt on my car, you’ll meet the disposal.”

The plants shivered in terror as they usually did, but Eve couldn’t help but notice Gardener stroke a reverent hand over the top of the Seedlings before giving them a quiet smile.

_Hmm, that’s interesting._

Before Eve could finish the thought, the Bentley shot off like a lightning bolt.

They must’ve been going well over 100, weaving and dodging through the midday London traffic. Wherever Gardener wanted to be he wanted to be there in a hurry. This didn’t stop him from continually glancing in the mirror, almost more than necessary.

Benedick and Hamlet screamed, wrapping what leaves they could around each other. Puck tried his best to reassure the Seedlings, who were terrified in their own right.

Eve, always stalwart, was beginning to think their initial assessment may have been off. The reverent hand almost petting the Seedlings, mentions of a new home, the way Gardener had made sure all of them would be safe and secure.

Gardener _was _nervous and anxious, but this was a different kind altogether than Eve had seen before. And Eve realized, his glances in the mirror weren’t at traffic, but at _them_.

His prized plants riding in the backseat of the fastest car in London.

“Everyone,” Gardener shouted as they hit the heavy traffic of Piccadilly Circus3, “this is the last thing I’m going to say before we get there. Things are going to be different now; very, very different. For all of you. For all of _us_.”

Eve rolled Gardener’s words over their roots. The other three continued to shake, and the Seedlings continued to cry.

“I hope,” Gardener said with a sigh, “that this is the right thing. I _hope_ we don’t have to go back.”

_We_, the Devil’s Ivy puzzled, _we, we, we. Curious._

“Because if we do, I don’t know how I’ll survive it.” 

Was it just Eve’s imagination or did Gardener’s voice just crack? Couldn’t be, semi-sentient plants didn’t have that much imagination. Gardener was very, very scared.

“You’ll all be lovely, and he’ll love all of you,” the distinct hint of a sniffle, “it’s if he can deal with me or if I’m gonna break this.”

The others had now caught up with the situation. Hamlet and Benedick had relaxed and were trying very hard _not _to look like they’d just jumped out of each other's leaves. Puck seemed to be on the verge of crying themselves, though that was nothing new.

“I don’t know how much you lot actually listen to the shit that I say,” Gardener continued, “but I’ve always felt like you could hear me in some way. I’m terrified. Absolutely scared _shitless_ right now.”

He took a long steadying breath, the Seedlings leaned towards him in their tiny plastic starter pots. Eve began to reach out a tendril.

“What if I’m not what he expects? What if we do this, and he regrets everything? He can’t go back to Heaven there’s nowhere else for him and if I fuck this up…Go-Sat-_SOMEBODY _if I fuck this up there’s no going back to how things were.”

_And there it is, _Eve thought to themselves, _that same old fear from the garden. Rejection._

The traffic at this point is at a standstill, and Gardener’s knuckles are white on the steering wheel. Eve continues reaching and snakes their tendril up to run through Gardener’s hair, comforting him just like they did 6000 years ago.

Gardener freezes.

“I knew I hadn’t imagined that,” the coldness in his voice gives Eve pause, “you’ve all gone sentient, haven’t you?” Eve answers by flicking his ear. “Well, you have at least. Old sod.”

A crackling of static from the radio, and the voice of Freddie fills the car as it has so many times before:

_ It's a hard life_

_To be true lovers together_

_To love and live forever in each other’s hearts_

_It's a long hard fight_

_To learn to care for each other_

_To trust in one another right from the start_

_When you're in love_

“Oh, now the bloody _car_ is gonna give me advice? You too, then?” He raps his knuckles on the dashboard, “got a bit of unknown brainery going on in there I need to know about, eh?”

The Bentley vrooms in response. It might’ve sounded something like _for about thirty years now, thanks for noticing._

Eve suppresses a shake that could be mistaken for a chuckle as the traffic starts to thin.

“Alright, fine, you’re right. And, _unfortunately, _that does make sense,” Gardener runs a hand through his hair exasperatedly, “taking advice from a fucking car what the Heaven comes next.”

As they pull up in front of the bookshop, the plants can already feel the glow from Sunshine inside. Given how fast he moves, he’d been watching from the window for Gardener to arrive.

“Crowley, there you are,” he says, sounding fidgety, “I was starting to worry you might’ve changed your mind.”

Gardener closes the distance between them, planting a kiss on Sunshine’s forehead, “Never, Angel, just had to get the rascals in line, you know how it is.”

He circles the car and picks up the tray of Seedlings, who immediately lean towards Sunshine.

“Oy! Traitors! Every last one of you!” Gardener starts towards the door, “just gonna put these on the roof, make ‘em a nice little place outside.”

“That sounds lovely, dearest, I’ll be up to help once I take care of the others.”

“Y’don’t have to, Angel, I’ll be back down for them.”

“No,” Sunshine says, looking pensive, “I think if I’m adopting them, I must get better acquainted, yes?”

“Ngk,” is all Gardener can manage to say as his face goes red and he stammers incoherently on his way into the shop. Sunshine chuckles to himself before leaning into the car towards the rest of them.

“Hello lovelies,” he says, radiating that glow that leads them to call him Sunshine in the first place. All four of them are drawn to it like moths to flames. Or plants to sunlight. Pick your metaphor, if you’d like.

“I understand this will be a bit different for you,” he pauses and spares a glance behind him to the open door, “it will be a big change for all of us, I believe.”

He absentmindedly strokes a hand over one of Hamlet’s leaves, “A change for the better, of course.” At this, Gardener finally returns to join him.

“Hey, don’t give them ideas.”

Sunshine smiles at him, “Oh but they’re so lovely, darling, you’re just too hard on them.”

“I’m just as hard on them as I need to be,” Gardener glowers at them, “aren’t I, my _friends_.”

The immediate shaking of four large plants in a big black vintage car assuages him for now, and with a snap of his fingers all four of them find themselves relocated to their new homes in the bookshop.

“We could’ve just carried them, dear,” Sunshine says, looping his arm through Gardener’s.

“Eh, possibly,” the demon shrugs, “But this keeps them on their toes. Er…roots. I don’t speak plant.” 

_Though maybe I should learn_, he thinks to himself.

\---

**_Epilogue…6 months later…_ **

The corner window of the bookshop is a lovely place to exist, Eve thinks to themselves often. Lots of sunlight, a lovely view, and their new favorite pastime.

Target practice.

Having a sentient plant around the bookshop has done wonders for the customers, and Sunshine has never been happier.

Neither, it would seem, has Gardener. There’s an old wingback chair posted by Eve’s position and, during the day, it’s one of Gardener’s favorite places. True to his thoughts, Gardener had somehow learned to speak plant. Which was a good thing, because with Puck minding the Seedlings (now fully immersed in their ‘rebellious teenager’ phase) in the rooftop greenhouse, and Hamlet and Benedick taking up a peaceful cohabitation in the kitchen; Eve had been feeling quite out of the loop.

“Sorry it’s a bit spaced out, old friend,” Gardener tells them, “It’ll get better though. Good work with the customers, I’ll never get tired of them running from creeping vines.” 

Eve notices a woman reaching for one of the Wilde first editions and lashes out a tendril to snap at her hand.

“Your aim is getting better, too.”

Eve would wonder sometimes if Gardener talked to the others like this now, without the venom and the threats4.

_You seem happy these days_, Eve entreats with the various swaying of leaves, _moreso than I’ve ever seen you._

“Yes, I suppose I am,” Gardener was smiling more these days. He was content, something Eve had never thought their anxiety-ridden Gardener could be. Plants weren’t the only beings who needed Sunshine, it would seem.

“Thank you, by the way.”

_Whatever for? _Eve rustled, confused.

“Eden," Gardener said quietly, seeming a bit far off, "you listened back then, too. Helped, a bit, I guess. If, and that’s a big _if_, I had to admit it.”

_There isn’t a need for that either, you’re the reason I’m not still there._

“In any case, if I hadn’t talked to Angel that day…” he trailed off as he sipped his coffee.

It had been so apparent, even in those first few weeks, that this was where Gardener belonged. Not this bookshop, necessarily, but wherever Sunshine was. Even through the tussles that come with any blending of houses, they never faltered in their love for each other. No matter who left the dirty dishes in the sink or forgot to take out the trash.

“We’ll move out of London at some point, of course,” Gardener said, “nice place in the country, with big windows. We’ll get the gang back together; I know you miss them.”

_Oddly enough I do, it’s awful quiet without Hamlet and Benedick’s bickering._

“Truth be told they aren’t doing much of that these days,” Gardener said with a smile.

“That’ll be quite enough customers for today,” they heard Sunshine say on the other side of the shop as he flipped the little CLOSED sign on the door, “ready to head up, dearest?”

“At three in the afternoon, Angel?” Gardener laughed, “Any special reason for closing early?”

“Do I need a special reason to spend time with my husband?” Sunshine asked before taking Gardener’s hand and pulling him up from the chair.

“Lead the way then,” he gestured grandly towards the staircase, kissing the hand entwined with his own, “_husband._”

Sunshine led Gardener back up the staircase, and he looked back one last time at the Ivy and gave them a wink.

If plants were able to smile, Eve would. Instead they focused on a rather pesky housefly that had been bothering them most of the afternoon. They'd get the bugger this time.

In a couple of years there would be a little cottage in the South Downs, with too many windows for too many potted plants. The Seedlings would grow and come into their own, Hamlet and Benedick would grow almost as close as Sunshine and Gardener, and Puck would continue to watch over whatever new sprouts came to be.

Eve, however, would become part of the back garden, helping Gardener make sure the trees and shrubs held the most succulent and juicy fruits and berries that the world had ever seen.

A six-thousand-year-old Devil’s Ivy is a very intimidating thing.

Especially one with absolutely impeccable aim.

_\---_

1 – Sunshine, unbeknownst to Gardener, had made a habit of coming by and watering the plants. However, Sunshine had whatever the _opposite _of a green thumb was and none except Eve had survived. Eve had survived solely because they didn’t want to disappoint Sunshine.

2 – Devil’s Ivy, as it is, is extremely invasive in tropical climates. It has a habit of completely devouring forest floors and causing extreme disruption in the environment. And if Gardener can take credit for the destruction at his job, well, it’s just a symbiotic relationship.

3 – There are only two motorways that are impervious to Gardener’s and the Bentley’s occult powers. The M25 and Piccadilly Circus in rush hour.

4 – He, of course, is not as nice to the other plants. Some considerations had been made for the one member of his garden that had been there since the beginning.


End file.
